


Blindman's Buff

by MostPreciousTreasures



Category: Emma (2020), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Regency Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24212629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostPreciousTreasures/pseuds/MostPreciousTreasures
Summary: Emma had always taken great pride in her imagination, but that day found her wishing to be a duller person with a less active mind. For she could do nothing without imagining, again and again, all the times she had taken great pains to invite Mr. Elton to Hartfield in order to encourage interactions between himself and Harriet. Now everything he had done and said in those moments took on new meanings - the very recollection of all the times he had praised her or let his gaze linger on her a little too long made Emma feel quite dreadful.~ a short little one shot about Emma discussing Mr. Elton's proposal with Mr. Knightley.
Relationships: George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse
Comments: 11
Kudos: 264





	Blindman's Buff

**Author's Note:**

> This story alludes to the age gap between Emma and Mr. Knightley. There is an actual 13 year difference between the actors from the 2020 movie (Anya Taylor-Joy and Johnny Flynn) and a 16 year difference between the characters in the original novel.
> 
> There is nothing explicit in this chapter, but wanted to give the warning just in case.

Emma returned to Hartfield, after having delivered the unfortunate news to Harriet that Mr. Elton was decidedly _not_ in love with her, in very low spirits indeed. She hid the portrait of Harriet away in a drawer that she did not frequently use - hoping that she would someday be able to display the likeness of her friend without looking upon it with great feelings of guilt and distress.

She attempted to alleviate her miserable state by reading a chapter of a book and discussing that evening’s dinner of roast stubble goose and applesauce with the cook - but nothing would do to ease her. Emma had always taken great pride in her imagination, but that day found her wishing to be a duller person with a less active mind. For she could do nothing without imagining, again and again, all the times she had taken great pains to invite Mr. Elton to Hartfield in order to encourage interactions between himself and Harriet. Now everything he had done and said in those moments took on new meanings - the very recollection of all the times he had praised her or let his gaze linger on her a little too long made Emma feel quite dreadful.

John and Isabella were to return to London on the morrow, and Emma wanted to make the most of her time with them (even if for her father’s sake alone, as he was often left rather depressed from Isabella leaving). Yet she knew her thoughts would still dwell on Harriet and Mr. Elton, even when in the company of her family. How foolish she felt! The mess was very much of her own making and now threatened to overtake other aspects of her life. She could not take much joy in dressing for the evening - something she had always delighted in. Even Biddy seemed concerned when Emma was uninterested in the style of her hair or selecting the exactly right jewelry.

When Emma did finally make the journey downstairs to join her family, she found Mr. Knightley tossing their nieces and nephews up towards the ceiling in the Little Hall and then catching them before they were dashed on the floor below. Emma was almost cheered by the scene. Mr. Knightley was always so gracious and obliging with their family in a way Emma never really could be, aside from her father. At any time he wished, Mr. Knightley could assert his claim over John and demand that his brother’s family come to stay at Donwell during their visits to Highbury - but he never did. He seemed entirely content to come to Hartfield to see them, which suited Mr. Woodhouse very well and in turn made Emma happy at her father’s comfort being attended to.

Mr. Knightley caught sight of her coming down the stairs as he deftly caught young Henry in his arms, who clung to him and giggled with joyous excitement. “Good evening, Emma,” he said warmly.

She nodded at him. “Good evening, Mr. Knightley.”

He smiled at her and then turned down to Bella who had begun tugging at his coat for a turn in the air.

“I wish you would not fling them in such a way,” said Emma with no real displeasure towards his actions, “You know how Father gets when he sees you do it.”

Mr. Knightley smirked at her words. “I remember you made no objections to it when you were but a child yourself.”

Emma blushed lightly. “As you say, I was but a child.”

“I dare say I could lift you still,” said Mr. Knightley as he playfully swept Bella into his arms, “What do you say? Should you like to see your aunt thrown and caught like a ball?”

“Yes!,” cried the children with glee.

Mr. Knightley laughed at this but his smile dampened a little when he saw Emma give nothing but an anemic smile in return - and with no witty retort as she usually would have done. He then ushered the children into the Drawing Room to join their parents, though they made their displeasure at being moved plainly known.

“Are you unwell, Emma?,” asked Mr. Knightley carefully as he examined her. He seemed to notice the dimness in her eyes and the plain - by her standards - gown she was wearing.

Emma sighed. “I am very well - but I must admit something extraordinary has happened. And I am very much humbled by it,” she said softly.

Mr. Knightley looked briefly at the open door of the Drawing Room and then directed her a little ways down the hall so that they were not in full view of their family.

“What is the matter?,” he asked, equally softly.

Emma looked up into his eyes. “I am nervous to tell you.”

He looked at her intently, his gaze flickering over her face. “Emma,” he said as he came closer, “Though we quarrel often, you must know that I care for you and only admonish you when I think you above certain behaviors. If you wish to seek my advice on a matter, I will always give it.”

She could not stand his kindness after such a day. “You were entirely right,” Emma blurted out, her cheeks heating into a bright pink, “Mr. Elton was never in love with Harriet and my labour was in vain - in fact, Mr. Elton seems to have fallen quite in love with _me_.”

Mr. Knightley tilted his head. “What?”

“I was fully shocked myself!”

“He is in love with you? How do you know?,” Mr. Knightley asked firmly.

“We shared a carriage on Christmas. An event he took quite the advantage of - for he proclaimed his ardent love and attempted to propose marriage.”

Something stirred in Mr. Knightley’s eyes - an iciness, or perhaps a fire, that made his already vibrant blue eyes appear even brighter. “Did you accept him?”

“No!,” said Emma, entirely appalled at the suggestion, “Do you think I would? Mr. Elton said himself that I seemed to give him ‘encouragement’ in his pursuit. Now you have me believing that I did, in fact, do such a thing!”

Mr. Knightley blinked and whatever emotions had been swirling in his eyes were gone in an instant. “No, I never - Emma, I do not believe you are the sort of person to give confidence to affections that are not returned.”

“Thank you,” said Emma, fully weary from everything to do with Mr. Elton and his _affections_ , “I am still quite embarrassed by the whole affair - but I hope to soon be in high spirits again.”

Mr. Knightley nodded in understanding. “Shall I throw you into the air now? Would that do to speed it along?”

“Mr. Knightley!,” she laughed, “It will certainly not _do_ at all.”

He grinned at her, showing the dimples that only appeared when he was really and truly amused. “May I take you back to our family then?”

She smiled and turned down the hall, with him following close behind.

“What are we to have for dinner?,” asked Mr. Knightley.

“Stubble goose.”

“Goose? Your father allowed it?”

“Well, perhaps he is not aware…” said Emma slyly.

“I should call for Perry now - the butter involved in such a dish will surely send Mr. Woodhouse into a fit.”

“Only if you encourage him!”

The two laughed heartily at that and were asked by John about what was causing such joviality. 

“Well,” said Mr. Knightley as he watched Emma sit primly on the settee, “Emma caught me playing with the children in a certain way and took me to task for it. I then reminded her that I used to play with _her_ in the exact same way.”

“What way?,” asked Isabella.

“Throwing me up high,” sighed Emma, “And then catching me.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Woodhouse with displeasure, “You know I dislike that, Mr. Knightley. Emma, was I not saying the other week how much I dislike such a game?”

“Yes, Father,” said Emma, trying to contain her smile.

“It is quite dangerous.”

Mr. Knightley came and sat beside Emma while Mr. Woodhouse began to list other childhood games that were of equal or greater danger.

Emma looked over at Mr. Knightley, who was taking in her father’s words with much good humor and mirth. “What other games,” she asked in a low tone, “Do you recall us playing when I was a child?”

He sat back a little in thought. “Hmm...Blindman’s Buff was a particular favorite.”

“Oh! How I would shriek when you caught me.”

“Yes,” smiled Mr. Knightley at the memory, “And tea with your dolls - many, _many_ afternoons of tea with your dolls.”

“You were most accommodating,” grinned Emma.

“Of course I was - they were some of the finest ladies of my acquaintance. Wooden or otherwise.” They both chuckled at that. 

Then they were quiet for a moment, watching as John lifted Bella onto his lap. He joked to his daughter quietly and she began to titter.

“Did you prefer it?,” asked Emma after a while. Mr. Knightley turned back to her, his eyes curious.

“Did you prefer me as a child?,” finished Emma.

Mr. Knightley was quiet. “No,” he said finally as he played with the signet ring on his left hand, “I enjoyed you then - but I do not prefer it.”

“We fought less,” huffed Emma.

“We had less to discuss,” he said lightly. Then he looked at Emma for a moment before angling his body a little more towards her on the settee. “I much prefer debating with the woman that you have become, rather than indulging the child that you were.”

Emma averted her eyes from his, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “Then I suppose you will not want to come for tea tomorrow? I am sure the dolls, nowadays, would serve you more than a handful of leaves and an acorn.”

Mr. Knightley inclined his head at her words and smiled gently. “If Lady Violet and Madame Butter-Cup extend me an invitation - I will always come.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Lady Violet and Madame Butter-Cup are both made-up dolls I created for Emma. Lady Violet also makes an appearance in my other Emma story, [Do Not Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962579)
> 
> [Roast Stubble Goose](https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/tag/regency-food/)
> 
> Mr. Knightley throwing their nieces and nephews into the air and catching them is mentioned in the novel as something he does - and that Mr. Woodhouse hates!
> 
> [Blindman's Buff](https://www.britannica.com/topic/blindmans-buff)


End file.
